a programmers account a ny times article
by robox
Summary: an article written by a former computer engineer for arsenal gear, exposing the government conspiracy and terrorist takeover from his view. Please R&R.
1. introduction

from:[scrambled] to: features@nytimes.com  
  
[NOTE THIS DOCUMENT IS BEING BURST DISTRIBUTED ON SECURE FREQUENCIES FOR SECURITY PURPOSES.]  
  
If you are receiving this you would already know of disasters at Manhattan, somewhere near the financial district. I do not know of the details, but this is not my intent, but to inform you on the back-story and conspiracy of this whole mess.  
  
Let me introduce myself. My name is John Leeky. I was a computer programmer and specialized in computer programming for the big shell. Though this is all extremely classified and that I am also risking my life telling you this, I know that this is something the people need to know.  
  
My background is mainly in computers. I graduated MIT in computer science and computer engineering and really wanted to get into technology invention, creating cool things that would help people. I decided to take a government job, mostly so I could expand my horizons on learning classified info and working on highly sophisticated projects. I got the job in computers; mostly computer programming and engineering which I thought was a great first step to my dreams. I really had no assignment at the beginning, waiting for about a month while I worked to live at a computer parts warehouse, but soon I was transferred to my first job at a remote weapons development facility in the Guam area. I worked there for a few years on a couple modifications on smart missiles and some infantry personal computers items to better hook up troops to base. I enjoyed it a lot and gained priceless job experience.  
  
A few years went by and during an annual performance check, I was asked if I was interested in a job working with what they called "classified advanced weapons development and research". Being a big area 51 buff all my life I hoped that this job would lead me there. I accepted this literally blind offer with no other details. I just hoped that it would pay a little better and lead to some great things.  
  
As soon as I accepted I was whisked away into another room, into sort of like an interrogation office: a single door; behind me, a one way mirror; a camera staring in my direction; and a microphone hanging over me. I don't think I was really scared. I kinda liked it. I mean how many times in your life are you briefed on how you were going to work with people who dissected aliens all day?  
  
The door swung open. A man in a black suit and an MP entered while another, heavily armed, waited outside. The man in the black suit unplugged the camera, while the MP got up on the tabled, which some what startled me and took out a utility knife and cut the microphone wire. Great, I thought, this has to be something so huge that this could be life threatening. The MP got down from the table, exited and closed the door behind him. The man in the black suit was left.  
  
He took a briefcase he was holding and put it on the table, unlatched it after entering a touch pad code and a key and opened it. He took out a few manila folders, probably my personal records, and service record.  
  
However this all took but a few seconds, and as soon as he was done he spoke "Mr. Leeky. You have been transferred to a top secret black ops project code named ARK. Let me make this as clear as possible," he came up to my face, "TOP SECRET. Is this understood?"  
  
Questionable and somewhat scared I may screw up, "are you military, because I don't know whether to call you sir. I don't really know what to call you at all."  
  
"There is no need to address me as anything. You say yes or no, are we clear?"  
  
"Yes sir." I said, now extremely confused and scared.  
  
"Now you will be working on the overall design of a brand new advanced weapon that we are now calling 'Arsenal Gear', as an associate of system and interface design and weapons operation protocol. Your supervisor has transferred you to this job because he feels you are working on projects below your potential. At this moment we cannot disclose to you the location of your transfer or anything else, other than you are leaving in two hours. Pack all of your belongings and clothing in maximum two standard issue duffel bags. On your flight you will receive a small briefing, outlining your project, its missions and the personnel you will work with. You will receive a more comprehensive briefing when you land. There is no turning back at this point. Understand?"  
  
Somewhat overwhelmed and with a dry through I replied, "Yes," I coughed.  
  
"That is all." He showed me the door as he was left to fill out some papers.  
  
I was escorted to my apartment in an armored van with some kind of government guard (Marines, Marshals?), protecting me from some kind of danger, or keeping me from reporting back to Russia on my progress, I couldn't tell. Maybe both.  
  
Extra safety was taken entering my apartment with SWAT team tactics, clearing out my room of anything. I packed, and as I was about to leave, my luggage was thoroughly checked by one of the personnel. After I was 'cleared', so to say, I was again shuttled, this time to the airstrip. When I got out, my luggage was taken and I was put on the plane, blindfolded. "Jesus," I thought, "this may be more than I asked for." The flight lasted, from what I guessed was eight hours and we made a stop, and transferred to another plane. This flight took another eight or so hours when we again stopped and transferred, this time to a helicopter with no windows, so my blindfold was taken off. I was then handed my first briefing, a small folder with what the hell I was going to be doing.  
  
The first page outlined the project Arsenal Gear, summarizing it a next generation metal gear program. "Great, nuclear arms" I started to feel really uncomfortable, almost nausea, when I read 'metal gear'. I've read too many unofficial accounts of these nuclear battle tanks to know they are bad news. I kept reading: I was responsible for the weapons protocol mainly and user interface controls secondly. "Great. I would be writing the code that will trigger the doomsday machine" I was working under a couple people, all I've never heard of. A couple doctors in their fields. I just didn't have a real great feeling about it, I mean, all the security, luggage search, MPs cutting microphone wire. It was definitely more than I expected.  
  
We landed at out destination, and from what I knew inside the chopper, I had no idea where I was. I was lead outside and got a big blast of sea spray in my eye. I almost dropped my folders as my arms reacted to the burn. I was in the middle of a sea, from what I could tell. I looked around and there were a series of structures, all similar looking, orange, and organized in a polygon with a larger building in the middle. I didn't have the time to take it in; I was rushed, again, inside. We went down a series of stairs where I met, what would become my administrator, Gary Foster.  
  
"Welcome aboard John!" he stuck his hand out and as the only friendly type person I had seen in a long time, I shook it. "Let's get you all settled in and get comfortable, you're going to be here a while."  
  
[END PART ONE OF X / PLEASE WAIT FOR NEXT TRANSMISSION] 


	2. the attack

[NOTE THIS DOCUMENT IS BEING BURST DISTRIBUTED ON SECURE FREQUENCIES FOR SECURITY PURPOSES.]  
  
[CONTINUATION FROM TRANSMITION ONE]  
  
I was living in somewhat, comfy yet cramp quarters. I had some space to put a few personal items, though I really didn't have any, just my diploma. I had been taken out of the private sector so I could live on big shell full time, which makes me military, I guess. It didn't bother me, room board and food paid for plus salary, which might I add, was plenty more than I was receiving in Guam.  
  
My job was going quite well. I had somehow forgotten the actuality of what I was doing: creating the systems that would fuel nuclear war. The project was coming along nicely on all sides. There were many parts of the operation that I wasn't really given to access; it wasn't in my overall briefing. I was really to consider anything that wasn't in the extensive hundred-page briefing on a need to know basis.  
  
What had I become? I sometimes thought. I wasn't thinking on my own. I had been turned into a solider.  
  
I had learned that project ARK was a next generation Metal Gear project. However this was not going to be a tank or a one manned nuclear-armed vehicle. Arsenal was to be practically a small city; with a crew of up to a couple hundred thousand; a massive payload of nuclear missiles and a massive army of next generation metal gear RAY's, as its defense.  
  
An extremely deadly combination but at first, all I could wonder was, WHY? Americans, hell the whole rest of the world was sick of this second- generation arms race. The cold war was over. We had help stop the renegade nations from becoming nuclear powers. There was no point. I felt that something big, from inside, was going to go down, I just had no idea.  
  
In fact, only until I reached the big shell facility was the first time I had ever heard of it. My briefing explained to me that this was an offshore research facility made for the sole purpose of the development of Arsenal Gear. I had no idea then of this huge cover up.  
  
I worked on the second floor basement of the shell two core. It was the main facility for the development staff. Lots of supercomputers (all classified); databases of nuclear missile logistics in vr tests, mostly metal gear REX and RAY's (which you may remember from the incident at Shadow Moses. We used the Metal Gear's diagnostics against Arsenal Gear, which really in actually was a joke). I also worked closely on the cockpit designs on both models and innovate them onto Arsenal.  
  
The thing was, wen never actually got to see or work on Arsenal physical. We had to work in this VR environment for everything. It made us all wonder if this thing could be a fake project, maybe just to see if something like this could work. None of us could tell. An interesting side note, well for me at the time, the sister of the famed REX developer, Hal Emmerich's sister was on staff as well on the project. I believe she had something to do with numbers, fractals I believe. We worked a lot with the data from the VR testing on a couple things, nothing exciting. She also kept some kind of bird right next to my goddamn desk that wouldn't shut up. It was annoying, but sometimes offered short  
  
Work was intense. Lots of new technology, again, all classified that all of us had to learn. We were up against a tight schedule. We had about six months to complete our end of the operation, which was somewhat tight. Most of the construction of the vessel, as my supervisor, Gary Foster, told us.  
  
One eventful day, Gary came over to the work area where we all were at the time, and gave us the news, 'Well guys the President is making a status check on us in an undisclosed amount of days. So if things start to pick up around here, that's the reason.'  
  
I didn't register it in my mind. I wasn't really interested in him. I was doing something important as I recall. Something to do with the override systems. I made a sticky note of that and the fact that I need to continue work on some of the internal controls, lights, cooling systems, things like that when I got back from my break. I have to leave notes on my work, I forget easily. It all seemed to run together.  
  
After saving my work, I headed out with some of the other guys to grab some lunch at the mess hall, across the shell. Guards at practically every door met us, just to make sure we were safe I guess. We really had no conversation between us techs. We had no knowledge of anything outside the shell. Any unauthorized outside reading was restricted. Books were available, but just old classics and outdated national geographics. And then there's always work, which we couldn't talk about outside out work areas. Just the old, got any kids, that's great. Wonder how there doing. Couldn't sleep last night. It got old pretty fast.  
  
Eating was, well eating. It reminded me of the old elementary school lunches. Prepared everyday by, I'm guessing, navy cooks. Three squares a day, with little variety. I think walking out side and hearing the sea, its soft rumbling as it hits the supports, the sea spray, the occasional sea gull, made us feel lots better from hours of computer staring.  
  
I headed back to the old grindstone by myself. I was reading an interesting article in an old magazine of some sort. I guess trying to remember what life was before coming here. I heard some helicopters approaching from the west, which was not unusual at all. We receive all of our supplies, personnel and anything else we may need from them. They came closer and closer as I left the shell 1-2 connecting bridge.  
  
I walked around the hall towards the elevator. A guard confirmed my ID and called the elevator. I got out, and rounded the corner to my desk. There was a ZIP disk on my desk. Attached to it was a memo.  
  
'John, install to both database and Arsenal database roots ASAP. Pass code = a7ee210pBRAVO21DELTAxx210katOMEGAuqiiraPHI88AITA11203CHARLIE Destroy disk and this memo afterwards -George'  
  
George or George Keith was the BMOC here. Whatever he said we did. However in this case, (an unknown file that was not scheduled to be loaded today) I didn't want to take any chances. I reached for the phone without looking. I was still gazing at the pass code string, when the phone rang. I flinched and picked up.  
  
"Yes," still startled, "um John here."  
  
A deep voice came over the line, a guard or something, "patching call to secure line." There were a few bleeps and pops. "This call is security encrypted, stand by. Connecting call.'  
  
A few seconds went by.  
  
A gruffy male voice came on now, obviously a man who liked a cigar, "Yeah John this is George Keith confirm code YORKDELTA, did you get my memo?"  
  
I thought a second. I knew it was him from the voice, but the confirmation code made this upload seem pretty big, "Uh um yes. Yes, sir, I did."  
  
"Good because we need this in, I know it's not scheduled, but something came up,"  
  
"Um, anything I should know about sir?"  
  
"Actually no, this is classified, some stuff for the private sector that will be on board. Told us not to disclose it."  
  
"Ah, yes sir, but why in the root, we can give them a whole server to work on, for security purposes?"  
  
"No this is just some basic diagnostics that they say they need before they attach their server later. Just do it John, it's all alright and it will not change anything."  
  
Cautious not to anger upper management, "Um yes sir I'll make it my top priority,"  
  
"Good. Have a nice day now John," He hung up before I could respond.  
  
I took the tape and memo off the disk and slid it into one of the server slaves on the other desk across from me. I entered some code to bring it up and start the load process. The computer asked for the pass code. I entered the string, checking it three times or so. It looked good to me so I pressed return. It checked the code and asked for the save location. I entered it, and an upload meter popped up. So I left it to do its thing, keeping the memo on me until it was done successfully.  
  
What was I going to do? Ah yeah the sticky. I hopped to the controls interface for more fabulous fun coding, debugging, coding, debugging, all on VR, never knowing if it would ever work physically.  
  
After another mind-bending four hours or so the upload was done and I had it for the day. My shift would soon be over. I put my huge manual of stuff to do and how to do it in the safe nearby, and locked up everything. I went over to the CPU with the upload complete message on it. I pressed return and it was all done. I took out the disk and gave it to the guard to shoot. They enjoyed that as we fed them many disks and floppies for them to shoot up. I then took the memo and put it in the ol' shredder.  
  
I then checked out with the guard, and as I was about to leave, I heard several gunshots and screams of men dyeing coming from outside.  
  
"GET BACK! HEAD TO THE ROOF!" the marine, yelled to me. I dashed to the corridor away from the door and hid in a locker. I heard the door slide open and countless number of shots fired. I looked out through the opening on the door and saw more marines running and surrounding the area I was just in, shooting their M6 rifles and throwing stun grenades  
  
HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT THERE ARE PEOPLE TRYING TO KILL ME!  
  
The marines as fast as they came in, they fell, to heavy AK-47 fire from the doorway. Suddenly men in orange/brown camouflage started to rush in from where the marines came from. I ducked down so as they wouldn't see me. As soon as I did, however, the door started to creek open. I took the opportunity to look around. They had all advanced. There was no one there. I took off for the stairs, down the hall. I kept as low as possible, but as I cleared the second corner, a flash light beam was in my right peripheral vision. I stopped and put my hands up, knowing that there was probably a high powered rifle near the light.  
  
I heard some boots scuffle when finally someone yelled to me, "FREEZE RIGHT THERE!"  
  
A few more of these soldiers surrounded me. I finally got a good chance to look at them. Some looked like they were Russian elites, with their camouflage. Others were wearing some kind of armor and carrying weapons I had never seen before. The only thing I could tell is that they were armor piercing. They would rip me to shreds. Unfortunately they were all pointing at me at the moment.  
  
What looked like an officer (with chevrons on his arm) came over to me, holding a pistol, not aiming it at me. "Who are you," he asked in an American accent.  
  
JESUS THESE GUYS ARE AMERICAN?  
  
"What's your name?" he asked again.  
  
"Leeky. John Leeky."  
  
He paused. He took out his radio; "Sir do we have a John Leeky listed?"  
  
A voice came over, somewhat unrecognizable from the interference, "Yes, he's an engineer, take him as hostage to the containment area."  
  
"Yes sir. Ok get him out of here. Unit one: take all the remaining hostages to Shell 1. Unit two: make extensive searches of the area. If you're on the boarding party, take your positions now." Some guards took my hands from over my head, put them behind my waist and wrapped them in utility tape, "make sure to check everywhere to make sure its clear, then set up a regular patrol." He took out his radio again, "Sir this is attack squad 2, we have the shell 2 core."  
  
"Yes sir," one squad continued towards the elevator, the others took me to towards the door I was about to depart from. I was then joined by some of my fellow colleagues. Before we could talk about what was going on, our mouths were all taped then lead to Shell One. All I could think about was "well, things are picking up around here, maybe the president is here." 


End file.
